Shaking her head in response to the first question, she offered him a small shrug. Not many. She didn't know too many Americans. There was a small Russian community where she used to live, but she hadn't gotten on well with most of them. Katya was just one of those people who found it hard to like people at all. But the Inspector, Luther, amused her. That was more than most people could say.
"Six years," she replied, canting her head to the side so she could glance at his face when she spoke. "But I have been spending time in Russian communities. Is hard, sometimes, to be in melting pots. The old women, they say Americans are a hot stew, but Russians, we are potatoes, and we do not melt so well in stew. We are chunky." She paused. That sounded terrible and stupid in English. "But this is what the grandmothers say." She turned away from him, scanning the faces of the people walking by them as though she might actually recognize one. "Eighteen years. This is a long time. Why were you deciding to go into law?"